


Child of the Ashes

by evarowaneva



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evarowaneva/pseuds/evarowaneva
Summary: Ayla, the adopted daughter of King Torygg has spent her entire life within the safe walls of Solitude. Gifted with powers unseen anywhere in all of Skyrim, she lives a comfortable life as the princess and future queen- that is, until Ulfric Stormcloak and his followers attacked the Blue Palace and changed Ayla's life forever.Farkas X OC
Relationships: Farkas/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My name is Eva and this is my first time publishing anything online! I've been writing fanfiction since I discovered it in the 8th grade, but I've always been too afraid to share it or anything.   
> Anyway, I hope you like this and if this goes anywhere, I might post other one shots I've written. The goal is to post weekly, so we'll see how it goes. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!  
> Leave me a comment to let me know what you liked (or didn't like, I guess that's fine too)  
> 💛E  
> Oh, also, I decided that this story wouldn't work if Elisif the Fair was around, so she's not a part of this universe. (Sorry!)   
> Please don't come for me.

She was born from death. Her tiny infant body was found among the ashes of a Draugr, and all manner of greenery had made itself a bed for her shaking bones. She was a newborn, that was certain, but her head was full of golden hair that seemed to brighten up the darkness of the dungeon the adventurers had stumbled into.  
They named her Ayla, which being interpreted, means light. She was promptly taken across all of Skyrim, shown as an anomaly and a sight that was worth a bit of coin. Eventually, they traveled to Solitude, where the High King himself wished to see the child of the ashes.  
He was smitten with her at first sight and paid a hefty price to take Ayla in. In her early years, she developed strange and incredibly strong powers and was studied by the highest of mages from the College of winter hold.  
It seemed that all plants and even the most ferocious of beasts would bow to her will, without the slightest desire to harm the small child.  
Ayla spontaneously sprouted flowers and greenery if she stood in a spot too long, and her governess spent many long hours picking leaves out of her hair that only seemed to grow longer and longer with every year, despite how many haircuts she received.  
Her father adored her, though. She was his prized possession and doted on her without fail. Ayla grew in strength and control over her powers as she aged, and soon she was not only known for her strange gift, but also for her beauty that was unrivaled.  
Unfortunately, her father was an overly cautious man. He feared for her safety, and never let her leave the blue palace unaccompanied. Leaving Solitude was out of the question as well.  
Ayla didn't mind, she had plenty of things to occupy her time. She became an accomplished singer thanks to her training at the college of the bards and began to learn how to brew potions with the flowers she grew.  
However, she was completely unable to concoct a poison, and her destructive spells would fizzle out before they could even get going. Ayla quickly realized she was unable to create or partake of something that brought about death.  
So she became a healer for the Imperial army. After much convincing, her Father finally let her go to the barracks and help the resident healer. She thrived and was always entranced by the stories the men would tell of defending Skyrim in her father's name. She also got her fair share of proposals from the same men, and if Father ever found out about them, usually that soldier was sent to the farthest corner of the country and was never heard from again.  
Ayla loved her life. She was surrounded by people she loved and who loved her in return.  
That was until her father was killed.


	2. Chapter 2

"There's been talk of an uprising." Taryn, her handmaid murmured as she swept the floor of Ayla's room. Her room was situated in the highest tower of the blue palace and overlooked the coast, which Ayla was currently admiring. "The people are gathering together, and riots are breaking out all over the holds."  
Ayla knew Taryn wasn't supposed to be talking about this sort of stuff. If her father knew, Taryn would disappear without a trace. "Do you think it means anything?" Although she tried to avoid it, fear crept up through Ayla's words.  
"I believe that there will be a war soon enough. I believe that soon there will be retribution."  
Ayla turned from the window and watched Taryn busily clean away. She seemed more tense than usual. "I doubt Father will let them anywhere near Solitude. He has the strongest army Tamriel has ever seen."  
Taryn paused and gave Ayla a dark look. She was relatively new to the castle and was about 6-7 years older than Ayla. It was rather random that she was appointed to be Ayla's handmaid, especially since her last one was in perfectly good health. "You trust your king an awful lot."  
Ayla scoffed. "Of course I do. He's my father. He has shown his power through the way he rules."  
Ayla picked up the broom and began sweeping again. Her grip tightened against the handle, and she muttered something under her breath.  
"Pardon me? I didn't hear what you said."  
"I said any time now."  
"Excuse me?"  
Then, a crash shook the entire palace. The very ground began to shake and Ayla easily fell to the floor. "What in the divines was that?"  
Taryn, who hadn't fallen, seemed unphased. "You imperials have ruled for the last time. Ulfric Stormcloak is our rightful leader, and nothing will stop him!"  
She lunged towards Ayla, her small hands wrapping around her throat. The two rustled for several seconds before she was able to throw the maid off her. Without waiting for another second, Ayla burst from her room to get to a safe room, but not before finding Father.  
Screams could be heard throughout the entire castle as well as the clanging of swords. There were swarms of men dressed in blue attire Ayla had never seen, and soon several of them were chasing her through the halls. Her feet could carry her faster than them, and she was lost them and was finally able to reach the throne room where her father always was.  
What she saw before her she did not understand. Father was standing a few feet from his throne, a sword drawn. Several feet in front of him was a man who had blonde hair and scars covering his face. He sported a thick black cloak and heavy armor and only had a simple steel sword.  
"Ulfric, why are you doing this?" Father yelled in panic. Ayla could quickly tell he was calculating either a speedy exit or a way to end the man's life.  
"You know why, Torygg. That throne is mine. I challenge you."  
Her heart dropped. She had only ever heard of the challenge for the seat of High King in books but had never thought she would live to see the day of one herself. Her father was bound by honor to accept the request.  
She also knew that it was a battle to the death.  
Father's eyes darkened. "I accept your challenge."  
Without another word, he charged towards Ulfric, sword high over his head, when the strange man shouted something Ayla had never before heard.  
The words shook through her body and it took everything she had to not topple to the floor in her hiding place.  
Father, however, was not so lucky. He was blown back, smashing against the stone throne and then toppling to the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes and she watched him struggle to get up.  
Then, without waiting another minute, Ulfric brandished a sword and swiftly moved towards her father. Before Ayla could even process it, he drew his sword and thrust it into her father's chest, reveling as he watched the life drain out of the high king's eyes.  
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. Her chest became a cavity and tears blurred her vision. Without thinking, a scream erupted from her throat. "Papa! No!"  
Ulfric jerked his head up to where she was hiding in the doorway and signaled for his blue-clad soldiers to bring her forward. Two grabbed her by each arm and forced her down to where the man stood.  
Behind him, Ayla gagged at the sight of her father, blood seeping from his body and covering the floor in deep red.  
They forced her to the ground and she could no longer control the sobs that racked her body. "Papa!"  
Ulfric pointed the tip of his bloody sword at her throat, forcing her to look up into his eyes. For a murderer, they were surprisingly sharp. "And who might this be?"  
"Ayla of Torygg, the dead king's daughter." One of the soldiers responded. His eyes didn't break contact with hers.  
Ayla could feel his knife dug into her skin, and she did all she could to stay as still as possible. "Please, kill me quickly."  
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what death would be like. But death never came.  
"I think I will keep her as a prize." The sword was removed and Ayla opened her eyes once again, paralyzing fear taking over. "Take her back to Windhelm."  
"Yes my lord." The soldier replied, and soon she was being dragged back and away from the only family she has ever known.  
"No, no! Please! Let me be with him!" Ayla began kicked and screamed and had never wished death on anyone as much as she did now.  
Unfortunately, her wishes of death, as to be expected, only brought life. Flowers began to grow around her Father's body and vines gently wrapped him up. Ulfric looked back towards her, an expression of intrigue in his face before waving them away.  
Ayla was dragged out of the castle and into the courtyard, where fighting was still happening. Bodies both Imperial and Stormcloak littered the gardens she had worked so hard to maintain. Even the servants were using anything they could to defend themselves.  
"Help! Somebody help-mmph!" Ayla began to scream, only to have her mouth covered by a dirty glove of one of the soldiers holding fast to her.  
Thankfully, her screams were heard, and a young soldier ran towards her. Determination filled his face and he quickly struck down one of her captures. "Let my princess go!" He yelled.  
Quickly, she was released and like lightning began running towards the town. Sharp rocks cut her feet but she didn't care. She needed to get away.  
Before she could get very far, however, her hair that seemed to have grown about a foot in the last hour was yanked back by the remaining guard that had taken her. Her attempted rescuer lay dead not 3 feet from the other soldier, and panic rose in her chest as she was slammed to the ground.  
"You can't get away that easily." He growled. His helmet had come off, and cuts were riddled across his worn pale face.  
Using her hair to his advantage, he continued to grab fistful by fistful, each one sending stabbing pain through her scalp until he had a firm grip at the base and was holding her small body with ease.  
Her toes barely touched the ground and she screamed in pain. With one hand, he still held her hair, and with the other, her arm, forcing her to walk and also using her as a human shield. They quickly mounted a black horse, and before she could do anything else, galloped away from her only home.  
Ayla writhed and fought every step of the way. The soldier had a tight grip around her waist and controlled the reigns as well.  
"Let me- go!" With the last word, she finally managed to writhe her way free of the soldier and went crashing to the ground. Pain erupted in all parts of her body, and all her air had been knocked out of her lungs. Dizziness hit her as she struggled to stand, and began slowly running towards the mountains.  
"I didn't think it would come to this, but here we are." The Soldier turned around on the horse and began galloping at full speed towards her. In a flash, his armed glove hit her square in the back of the head and she was out like a light.


	3. Chapter 3

Everything hurt. Death wasn't supposed to hurt. Ayla didn't think death would smell this bad either.

"She's awake." A voice murmured. A flashback of everything that had happened over the last 24 hours hit her like a tidal wave.

Her eyes shot open and she became very aware of her surroundings very quickly. Her hands were bound, and she sat against one of the walls of a dingy cell. Her gown that she was wearing previously was replaced with a white frock that left little to the imagination as it was sleeveless and very short, made of rough material. Per usual, soft grass hand-grown underneath her to soften the hard stone floor, and staring back at her from the other side the iron bars were two men. One of them was Ulfric, and the other was someone she hadn't seen before. His hair was scraggly and sparse, with wrinkles sagging his long face. The man stood several inches taller than Ulfric and had raven eyes that lacked life.

"Where... where am I?" Ayla's voice was groggy and scratched.

"You're in Windhelm, princess." The unknown man folded his arms. "Welcome to your new home."

She turned to Ulfric, hatred bubbling up within her. "You. I'm gonna kill-" Ayla launched herself towards the front of the cage, only to be stopped a foot from it, realizing a chain shackle around her ankle prevented her from moving any further. A level of frustration she had never known before bubbled up inside her. She struggled against her bindings and let out groans of exasperation. Her outburst sprouted large vines to grow all over the walls, and mushrooms of all kinds to litter the ground.

"Intriguing. I have never seen a power like that. You say she is the daughter of Torygg?"

The man studied her, his interest sparkling in his dark eyes. Ulfric shrugged. "That's what they say, but after doing some digging, I found out she is the child that was born from the ashes all those years ago."

"Well, that changes things. Not only is she beautiful, but she is an anomaly. I do believe she could be key in ending this war." The man stroked his chin, pondering this new information.

"I will  _ never _ help you.” Ayla spat. 

It seemed they did not even hear her. Ulfric’s sharp eyes once again pierced her soul. “Gerin, can you find out the extent of her power?”

The man called Gerin gave her a twisted smile. “It will be a cinch. I will put her through a series of tests to see how she reacts, and I will report my findings to you promptly.”

“Good. I must go, but I am eager to see what you discover.” Ulfric turned to leave. He paused and turned back towards Gerin. “Please don’t kill her.”

“I will do my best.”

Panic seized Ayla and she backed away from the bars, cowering into the wall. Soon Ulfric was gone and the man turned towards the back of the room she hadn’t cared to look at until now.

It seemed there was only one cage, which she now occupied, and it was clear that the rest of the room was damp and musty, just like her cell. A wooden chair with leather straps and bindings was propped up in the middle, and a large table lined with all sorts of different tools was adjacent to it. 

To the left was a stoked fire, crackling and burning, allowing warmth into the cold room. A series of metal rods and pokers were set in the center, red from the intense heat.

A chain lock was fastened to the rock wall in the far right corner, and beside it, a pool of water that seemed to run several feet deep, but was only about 5 feet in diameter. Next to the pool of water was a locked door that Ulfric had just exited through, and briefly, she got a glimpse of a staircase leading up to an unknown location.

Her attention was brought back to Gerin when he grabbed a hefty chain that had a large cuff on the end and a thick lock. He turned back towards her, the grin still on his face, and in his raspy tone said, “You will become best friends with this chain.”

Ayla couldn’t help but whimper as he approached the cell. Her pain tolerance was rather low, and she didn’t think in a million lifetimes that she would be in the position she was in. Gerin unlocked the door and roughly forced the cuff around her neck, locking it in place with a padlock and leaving little room for air.

While still clasping the other end of the chain, he removed the ankle cuff from both her ankle and the wall, bringing it with him as the two of them exited the cell. As if he needed to explain himself, he said, “I prefer keeping you chained around your neck. It makes it easier for me to be in control.”

This man was sick. Besides Ulfric, he was the evilest man she had ever come in contact with and at this point, death would have been a sweet gift. After tossing the other chain in the corner of the room, he forced her towards the chair and with one swift movement, cut the bindings on her wrist.

Immediately, Ayla began to fight back. She was weak and tired, but she did her best to force him off of her. Unfortunately, his grip was iron and for how spindly he looked, he was stronger than an ox. Soon her hands and legs were strapped tightly in the leather, and the metal cuff was linked to the back of the chair.

The tears she thought she had cried out completely returned in full force. Once again they were huge tears, hot and heavy as they streamed out. “P-please, don’t do this. I beg of you.”

Gerin wiped at her wet cheeks and stroked her hair, which now reached to her ankles instead of the knees where it was yesterday. “The pain is only worse if you squirm, so try to stay still.”

“Please!” She began to scream. Gerin reached for a notebook and began writing down a few notes. “LET ME GO!”

He ignored her and walked towards the table, grabbing a sharp knife. “Test one is seeing the effects of a cut on the subject’s forearm.”

Ayla’s entire body was shaking profusely as he lowered the knife to her arm. She cried out as he cut a deep gash about halfway down and blood began pouring out. A wave of nausea flooded through her as she was roughly thrown into a flashback of seeing her father’s blood gush out all over the steps she had played on as a child.

In reaction, grass and shrubbery sprouted from the ground beneath her, as well as dandelions and softleaf sage. Gerin examined the plants and recorded each kind in his notebook. 

“Test two is the effects of heat on the forearm of the subject.” 

“NO. No. Don’t.” Ayla struggled against her bonds and writhed in her seat. It didn’t matter. She was powerless and at the mercy of his hand. Soon the heat seared her skin and she let out a scream that shook the room.

Angry thorns grew in full force around Gerin, and they snagged in his clothing. Tiger’s lily and roses bloomed all around her but soon wilted as she sank down into the seat.

Test after test continued for upwards of two hours, and many times Ayla would lose consciousness, only to be revived with a slap to the face or a bucket of water. By the end, all of her wounds that now covered all of her arms, legs, neck, and feet were patched up carefully by Gerin and she was thrown back into her cell, this time the chain around her neck locked to the ring on the wall.

She had never felt so much pain in her life. A piece of her soul had been beaten out of her and she felt empty. Not only was she enduring every form of torture known to man, but she could not grieve with her people over the loss of her father. Ayla prayed to the gods that he was given a funeral and prayed even harder that she could die quickly, so she didn’t have to endure another day like that.

With her whimpers, baby’s breath cradled her body, soft grass returning beneath her. It seemed they were whispering words of love, and before she knew it, sleep overcame her broken body and she was given the grace of sound rest. 


	4. Chapter 4

For the next several months, this was Ayla’s life. She would endure endless forms of torture, from the fire burned beneath her feet to being thrown into the pool of water, sinking quickly to the bottom with no way back up, and nearly drowning.

She had skeevers thrown into her cell, only for Gerin to discover that the animals were like house pets to her, cooing and licking her body in a loving way. With each test, her faith in humanity died. Ayla’s prayers stopped and she stopped wishing for someone to find her.

Gerin never bothered to cut her hair and found it quite fascinating that although he never washed it, it was always clean and still shone. His favourite thing to do, was just before she was put back in her cell, he would stroke her head, place his nose to her scalp, and inhale deeply. Her scent was something he couldn’t seem to live without. Now, after everything, her hair reached in length several feet behind her.

She hardly screamed now. She quickly learned that screaming brought intense pleasure to her torturer, and in an effort to do everything she could against him, she sacrificed screaming for his dissatisfaction.

Ayla stopped fighting back weeks ago as well. She went to bed weak and woke up even weaker, so to preserve what little energy she had, it was easier to submissively take it than pointlessly strain against bindings she couldn’t break.

It was the first day of the ninth month she had been here, and Gerin was in the middle of peeling back the first layer of skin on the palm of her hand when a series of shouts came from the doorway.

Several pairs of boots stomped down, and three blue-clad soldiers appeared. “Thane Garin, we have some bad news.”

Gerin looked up from his handiwork and gave them an irritated look. “It sounds like a few bandits got sword happy and wanted to make some trouble. I don’t see why you need to bother me with that.”

The soldier who spoke before gave a subtle look of irritation. “My lord it is far worse. The Companions have lain siege to the fort. They are wiping out our men, and fast approaching.”

Gerin dropped the scalpel he was holding and cursed under his breath. He ran a hand through his balding hair and began to pace. “Gods. Why are they here?”

The soldier met Ayla’s gaze. “They’re looking for her.”

Gerin stared back at her, and her stomach began to churn. A fire was lit inside of her that had been extinguished long ago. “Go, quickly. Lock the trap door behind you and cover it with anything you can find, a wardrobe, a bed, a rug. I don’t care. Just make sure they don’t find it.”

Gerin shooed them away and with his ring of keys, locked the door after they left. Ayla could clearly see the fear in his eyes and she was glad for it. He quickly untied her bindings and was about to put her back in the cell when a roar shook the fort. It was powerful and strong and left a vibration in her chest. That gave her the courage she needed to take Gerin by surprise and leap out of the chair.

Although the door was locked, she could try and make as much noise as she could by screaming and pounding on the door. 

“I’m down here! Help me! I’m down here!” Her voice was scratchy and weak but grew stronger with each word. “I’m-”

Gerin yanked at the end of her chain and the sheer force of it sent her flying to the ground. Her head hit the dirt floor roughly, and pain flowered from her head. “Shut up you little brat.”

He dragged the chain towards him and lifted her up to her feet. She kicked and clawed and fought with everything she had. Once again, she was able to break free and began pounding on the door. A roar shook her bones, this time closer.

Gerin grabbed her again and with great struggle, forced them both into the cell, locking the door behind them. She was chained to the wall and kicked to her knees.

Panic washed over her. She needed to be found. She needed to escape. Thick vines, thicker than anything she had ever created began climbing the walls of the cell, wrapping around each bar, and pulling hard.

Gerin turned around from his attention at the door and slapped her square in the face. The vines stopped pulling as he grabbed her cheeks. “You need to stop. You have no idea what the companions could do to you, let alone what they will do to me if they find us.”

Ayla shot him a bitter glare. “I would rather be ripped apart than spend another moment with you.”

Then, another roar made her cover her ears. It seemed to come from right on top of her. Screams echoed through her chest and were cut short as Ayla listened to their life being ended.

A crash above them caused both Gerin and her to flinch. He began wringing his hands and cursing under his breath. It was still for a few moments, and then heavy panting could be heard behind the thick wooden door.

“Gods no, no, no, no.” Gerin whimpered and backed into the wall as the handle was jiggled. Whatever was on the other side quickly realized that the door was locked and stopped. There was a pause before the door was completely and totally demolished, splinters flying across the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Then, the most hideous creature Ayla had ever seen crouched through the entrance. It had the face of a wolf and a body that was covered in the same fur but walked uprightly like a man. The creature’s snout was curled up in snarl as it searched the room.

It’s dark eyes landed on Ayla and Gerin and the snarl turned into a growl. Fear paralyzed her and she couldn’t move. The creature seemed to have the same effect on her torturer, and no one spoke.

In one swift motion, the door was ripped off and Gerin began screaming in terror. As Ayla watched, the creature seemingly had no interest in harming her but had its eyes trained on Gerin.

Gerin unsheathed the small iron sword he always wore on his hip and raised it forward. The entire blade was shaking as he trembled in horror. The creature launched forward and snatched him like a child, throwing him across the room.

Gerin began screaming and running, desperately trying to get to the stairs but the wolflike creature could predict his every move and with one swift swipe, sent him flying into the fireplace.

He only screamed for a few seconds before he went still and didn’t move again. After making sure he was dead, the creature turned to Ayla. 

She curled herself up in a ball and closed her eyes tightly, not fighting her inevitable death and preparing her soul to roam Sovngarde for eternity. Several seconds went by. Then a minute. She dared not open her eyes because the sheer fear she felt when looking into the creature’s eyes was more than she could bear.

Then, to her utter surprise, she was not killed. Instead, a warm hand was gently placed on her cheek and she flinched, her eyes shot open to see a man kneeling in front of her, his light grey eyes filled with sadness.

“Gods. What have they done to you?”

Without thinking, she leaned into his kind gesture and began to sob. She put her hand over his and felt a sharp pain in her chest. This was the first time she had been shown kindness since her father was still alive. All she could muster between heavy sobs was a quiet “Thank you.”

The man stood and grabbed the key to the shackles around her neck, quickly freeing her from the chain. It was bruised and swollen, but she could finally breathe.

“Can you walk?” His voice was gentle and kind, and Ayla was captured by him. She nodded meekly and stood up, her legs shaky. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Before they left the room she had been locked in for nine months, the man took off the fur cloak he was wearing and wrapped it carefully around her small frame. It all but swallowed her but she was grateful to have something to cover up her indecency. 

Slowly, Ayla and her rescuer walked up the stairs. She was weaker than she initially thought, and leaned heavily against him. Waiting at the top of the stairs was a small group of people, all decked out in the same armor that he was wearing, all looking incredibly beat up and exhausted. 

In an instant, they all kneeled before her, and Ayla was reminded that she was in fact royalty. A woman with deep red hair and black war paint across her cheek looked up. “Your highness. It is an honor.”

“I should be the one bowing to you all.” The tears that had slowed, returned once again. “There are not enough words to describe how grateful I am to each of you. I genuinely believed that I was going to die down there.”

The group stood and all of them looked relieved. The red-haired woman spoke again. She pointed to each of the others around her, stating their names. “My name is Aela, and this is Skjor, Athis, Torvar, and Vilkas.”

“And I am Farkas.” Ayla’s rescuer said while smiling kindly down at her. 

Athis stepped forward and handed her a bundle of furs. “This is quite large now that I’m looking at you in person, but here are some better coverings for the journey to Whiterun.”

She thanked him quickly and slipped the ensemble on. It nearly swallowed her, but she was grateful for the protection as well as the warm boots.

Farkas placed his cloak around her once again and said “We should probably get going. I saw one of the stormcloaks ride off to get reinforcements just as we were breaching the courtyard. They’ll be back before we know it.”

All of them nodded in agreement and began walking briskly towards the entrance where, much like the wooden door downstairs, had been knocked off its hinges and splintered in a million directions. A cold breeze shocked Ayla as she squinted at the snowy tundra. Without being able to control it, her body began to shiver.

Waiting outside, were several horses who looked like they had participated in the battle. She bowed her head to them, a preferred greeting among stallions before Farkas swept her up onto a dapple grey. Flashbacks to her kidnapping haunted her and she was half tempted to jump off the beautiful creature, but her savior’s gentle but firm arm around her waist made her think otherwise.

“I would hold on to her mane. It’s going to be a bumpy road.” He whispered into her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine. She swallowed and nodded as she grabbed a fistful of hair

Soon, they were off. The group seemingly flew across the tundra, the horses tirelessly galloping away, following a beaten path, and passing a few travelers on the road. Those they did pass, however, would tip their hats or bow their heads and wait for the company to pass by them. 

Who were these companions? They must be highly esteemed if they are recognized so widely throughout Skyrim.

They didn’t stop even when the sun had set and the chill of the winter wind nipped through Ayla’s clothes. She found herself leaning into Farkas and stealing the warmth his body gave off. A few times, she would nod off, only to be woken up several minutes later, with a bump in the road or a sharp gust of air.


	6. Chapter 6

They finally reached a city just before sunrise. Ayla could not describe the feeling of joy she had as she watched the sky turn a soft yellow and felt the sun on her cheeks for the first time in what felt like years.  
“Is this Whiterun?” She asked as they clopped up to the stable.   
“It is. Isn’t it beautiful?” She could hear the smile in his rough voice and Ayla nodded in agreement.  
The stacked rocks that walled the city seemed to stand out from the plains and hills that surrounded it. They were covered in a golden grass that she had never seen before and with each moment, she became more and more captivated.   
Farkas helped her down from the horse, then gave the stable boy a handful of coins to take the horse away. The stallion nuzzled its nose into Ayla’s cheek before being led away, causing a giggle to slip from her lips.  
“she really seemed to like you.” He mused as he gathered armfuls of her golden hair. The group began walking towards the pathway that led to the city. Ayla blushed and smiled. “I have a connection to the animals. They trust me, and I trust them.”  
“That’s interesting. Especially since my horse is the most stubborn, unlikeable creature out there.” He chuckled.  
“That’s because you don’t give her enough peppermints. Those are her favorite and you’re holding out on her.”  
Farkas’s eyes widened. “Wait are you serious?”  
“Yes..?”   
He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  
The group approached the gates and the two guards that stood out front graciously opened them. Inside was a busy street, filled with people of all different kinds of races, selling wares, sharpening knives, and even a few children ran between them in an intense game of tag.   
Ayla’s eyes all but popped out of her head and her excitement was shown as lavender sprouted from each step she took. Soon she had the eyes of everyone in the street, and they watched her in awe as she passed by them.  
Farkas led her up the steps towards a tree that looked like it was suffering. She could see the tears leak out from the seared branches, and walked towards it. Gently placing one hand on the trunk, Ayla willed life to come back into this tree. Immediately new branches sprouted and the leaves returned in full force. All who were watching gasped in shock and her cheeks burned red.  
The citizens of Solitude were used to her spontaneous acts of growing, but it seemed the people of Whiterun had never seen the likes of someone like her. She was beginning to see a theme.  
“That was…” Vilkas, who hadn’t spoken the entire trip, trailed off in shock. “Amazing.”  
Now, a hefty crowd was following the group as they climbed the steps to Dragonsreach, home to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun. She knew this from her geography class that her father had so strictly forced she partake in. The guards at the top shooed everyone away except her party, and quickly they were escorted inside.   
The great hall inside was massive, not quite as large as her home in Solitude. Granted, nothing was quite as large as that one. Several people were pacing the room anxiously and obviously their arrival was one of relief. Sitting on the throne in the back of the room, was Jarl Balgruuf. He had grown older since Ayla had last seen him.  
When they approached the group, warm welcomes were shared all around. The Jarl bowed deeply to Ayla and graciously took her hand as a sign of respect. “Thank the divines you survived. I can’t even imagine the hell you’ve been through for the last nine months.”  
He signaled to a timid maid who was cowering in the corner. “Please escort Princess Ayla to her quarters. I am sure she is exhausted from the journey and could use an outfit proper for an heiress to the throne.”  
She nodded and signaled towards the stairs. Although deep down Ayla knew she was safe, she didn’t want to leave with the woman. Her gaze met Farkas’s and he gave her a silent signal that it would be alright. Reluctantly, she took her mound of hair from him and followed the young maid upstairs.  
She lead Ayla through a series of hallways until she stopped at a large room with soaring walls and brightly lit torches. A tub filled with steaming water sat in a corner of the room, adjacent to it was a wardrobe filled with the finest of clothing. A giant bed beckoned her and she wanted nothing more than to collapse within the soft feathered mattress.  
“M’lady, may I?” The maid beamed and offered to take off the coat. Slowly, Ayla nodded and soon she was stripped down out of all her filthy clothing. Although she tried to hide it, the girl was shocked by the amount of scars she had covering her body. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”  
“It’s alright.” Ayla carefully sunk into the hot water and immediately her muscles began to relax. The chill that plagued her bone for nine months was lifted instantly and she was pretty sure she had found heaven. “What’s your name?”  
“Hana, miss.”  
“Hana, will you do something for me?”  
“Anything.”  
“Will you please cut off this infernal hair?”  
“Certainly.” She chuckled. “I was considering getting a separate wash basin to wash it in so I am grateful for that.”  
Ayla laughed. “That would be hilarious, but no. I want it gone. It’s been too long for far too long.”  
Soon Hana was chopping away and thankfully was able to cut through her thick locks with a pair of dull sewing scissors and making it fairly even down to the middle of her back. Little did her maid know, she would probably be doing this once a week. Ayla should probably talk to the Jarl about purchasing a proper pair of shears.  
When she finished, Ayla sunk further into the water and allowed Hana to carefully wash her body, and clean the wounds she had received that week. Compared to what she had experienced, the minor pain of disinfecting was more of an annoyance than anything else.  
Eventually the water got cold, and reluctantly, she climbed out. Her open wounds were bandaged, then Hana pulled a slip out of the dresser and a gorgeous red gown from the wardrobe. Ayla was expertly dressed and silently thanked Hana for choosing a dress with sleeves long enough to hide most of her scars. The neck was quite revealing as it was an off shoulder ensemble, and she flinched when looking in the mirror and seeing all the scars wind their way up her badly bruised neck. Her once smooth skin was mutilated and hideous.  
“Miss?”  
“Yes?” Ayla turned away from the mirror, thankful for the distraction.  
“The Jarl and the Circle of the companions are expecting you for supper shortly. Would you like me to fashion your hair so that it is up and out of your way?”  
Ayla smiled at the genuineness of her offer. Hana offered her a chair that faced away from the mirror and she sat down once again. “That would be wonderful Hana. Thank you. May I make another request?”  
“You needn’t ask me, miss.” Hana began weaving her hair in and out into an elaborate braid that was very flattering to Ayla’s slim features.  
“Will you please call me Ayla?”  
Hana’s fingers froze for a few seconds. They picked up again, cautiously. “I- I couldn’t do that. If the Jarl heard me-”  
“When it’s just you and me. I hate the formality of titles, but I will respect your desire to use them around your employers.”  
“I suppose. But only when it’s me ‘n’ you.”  
“Thank you.”  
Soon her maid was finished, and as a final touch, she placed a stunning circlet that was set with a large ruby. After slipping on a pair of gold satin slippers, Ayla found herself descending down the large stairs to be greeted by the housecarl. He beamed at her and with a booming voice, announced her arrival.  
“Her highness Ayla.”  
She walked further in and saw several new faces, and blushed when everyone stood at her entrance. Being away from these formalities for so long certainly made them uncomfortable for her now. Quickly walking to a seat directly next to the Jarl, Ayla curtsied deeply and then sat. Everyone followed her lead and watched her curiously.  
In an elaborate fashion, several cooks presented the food and placed it before them. The smell alone was enough to make her stomach rumble. A tantalizing roasted quail, boiled potatoes, and various vegetables called her name, and she took her first bite, very aware that everyone was waiting for her to do so before they did.  
Conversation resumed around the table and Ayla was able to get a better look at the people sitting around the table. Her eyes quickly met Farkas’s and his mouth slightly agape. His face was no longer covered in dirt and war paint, and his hair was brushed out of his face. Next to him was Vilkas, and they looked exactly alike except for the haircut. Vilkas saw Farkas and his frozen expression and kicked him under the table.  
A smile tugged at her lips and she continued eating. Ayla couldn’t help but notice the small conversation the two were having. Probably Vilkas scolding him for staring like an elk caught in a torchlight.  
“Your highness, it is so wonderful to have you back.” Jarl Balgruuf beamed at her. She did a quick refresher’s course of dinner table etiquette and nodded graciously.  
“I am indebted to you Jarl, not only were you key in my rescue, but you have welcomed me into your home and given me more than your duty required.”  
The compliment brought a rosy complexion to the older gentleman’s cheeks and he smiled. “It was simply my duty, and I am honoured to serve the daughter of the late High King. Your father was always good to me and my people, and I will never forget that.”  
A man decorated in armor to the left of the Jarl coughed, and awaited a moment to speak. Jarl Balgruuf smiled and nodded. “This is General Tullius. He is-”  
“The general of the Imperial Legion. I am familiar. It is good to see you again.” Ayla smiled and bowed her head. She had met him when he was appointed general and father and her were invited to the ceremony in Tamriel’s capital but she was just a young girl. “I am glad to know you are here to resolve this matter.”  
“It is an honour. Emperor Titus sends his regards to you, and wishes you well.” He gave a curt nod and continued eating. She returned to her own plate and began inhaling the food as ladylike as she could. This was the first good meal she had in ages, and she intended to finish it all.  
“If I may ask, what is the plan now?” Ayla said between bites.   
“Until we can eliminate this stormcloak rebellion, it would be best for you to stay here, within the walls of Whiterun. I will make sure your protection is the highest of priorities until you can be coronated as the new High Queen.” General stated, conviction in every word.  
“I have appointed the guild of the Companions to guard Dragonsreach, and ensure your safety. This will be the most airtight city during your stay.” Jarl’s voice was confident and relaxed. General Tullius’s was less so.  
“Are you sure you can rely on these ‘Companions’?”  
“Tullius, they were able to infiltrate Fort Goldstone in one day, and completely clear it out. They successfully accomplished something that the rest of Skyrim had been trying to do for eight months since Princess Ayla’s location was found.”  
Tullius shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. How they did, I have no idea. I just want to be sure she is safe. We can’t afford to lose her again.”  
Ayla wondered if the Jarl knew that the reason they were able to complete an impossible task was because they were beasts in human skin. She looked back at Farkas and saw him throw his head back in laughter from something Athis said. Her heart leaped at the sight and she felt her cheeks flame when he glanced at her direction and met her stare. He gave a small wave and she slipped him one back. He was so kind. She hoped he would get to see more of him.  
Farkas was so different from the monster she had seen back in her cell. He was warm, loving, and gentle. The beast was cold, calculating, and powerful. It made her admire him but also fear him.  
“I trust that I will be kept safe in my time here in Whiterun. The companions have proven themselves to be formidable guardians, and I pity anyone who crosses their path.”  
The rest of the meal was rather uneventful. General Tullius updated her on the affairs of the province that occurred over the last nine months, such as dragons returning as well as the prophesied dragonborn returning but most of the time she roamed to and fro killing random things and never returning summons. That was a bit of underwhelming news.   
She was interested in the fact that Ulfric Stormcloak had been caught a few months back, but escaped by the skin of his teeth, his whereabouts unknown. The news hadn't traveled far that Princess Ayla had escaped, but Tullius was sure Ulfric would learn soon and hunt her down again.   
That left a chill down her spine. There was no way that she would go back there. She would kill herself before she allowed herself to be captured again.  
Finally, the dinner was over. The Jarl wanted to have her be the first to leave as per tradition, but Ayla wished to stay and mingle for a while before returning to bed.   
Formalities dropped as soon as the Jarl and General left, and Farkas walked up immediately to Ayla. "You look divine tonight, m'lady."  
"You don't look too bad yourself. I can't believe you were able to clean up all that soot." She giggled and felt thrilled at the compliment. Villas walked up behind his brother and threw an arm around his neck.   
"How you likin' Whiterun so far?" In true Nord fashion, he had drunk a little too much mead. The familiarity was comforting though.   
"I haven't seen much, but so far I love it." She grinned as Vilkas nodded in agreement.   
The three of them joined the others and Ayla was given a quick introduction to the rest of the group and once they got over the fact that she was only one step down from the Emperor, she was warmly welcomed and caught up on the traditions of the Companion Guild.   
After another 45 minutes of chatting, Ayla felt sleepiness creep in and quickly dismissed herself. Tonight was the first night she had felt happiness again. She began to feel whole again and although a big part of her was missing still, her hope was finally back. 


	7. Chapter 7

It took a few minutes to find her room again, and Hana was waiting inside, ready to dress her into a nightgown. It didn’t take long before Ayla was alone for the first time all day, and she felt a sigh of relief.

There was a balcony that opened up to the stunning view of the Throat of The World, and the majesty of it all was more than enough for her to walk out with nothing but her nighty on and a robe to keep the chills out. 

Ayla leaned against the balcony wall as far as she could, reaching up on her tiptoes and closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air as if it were going to disappear any moment. The two moons were vast and the stars that surrounded them were even more so. Everything was still, and it was peaceful. Ayla was going to enjoy getting used to this place. 

“Careful, you might fall.”

The voice startled her and she yelped as she turned around, panic racing through her. It was too soon. She couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t go back. A figure emerged from the shadows, and relief flooded her as she realized that it was Farkas. Then irritation seeped in. 

“Why did you scare me like that? A better question would be, what are you doing on my balcony?”

He was decked out in his armor again, and black paint shrouded his eyes, making the gray of his irises startling against the dark background. Ayla pulled her robed tighter across her chest, suddenly very aware of how little she was wearing. 

Not that he hadn’t seen her in less.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, and I’m on your balcony because this door isn’t going to guard itself.” He smirked and gestured to the enormous sword on his back. He then looked at her hair that was several feet shorter and a few pounds lighter. “I like your haircut.”

“Thank you. How did you even get up here? You were in the banquet hall after I left, and somehow you had time to get changed and all the way up here?” She was still not satisfied with his answer.

“You and I are both very aware in the time and effort that goes into taking off a dress like the one you wore tonight, and as for how I got here,” Farkas grinned and folded his arms. He took one sweep with his eyes up and down her small body. “That is for me to know and you to not. It’s not often women go out on their balconies this time of night with nothing on but their nightgown, so you could say you surprised me when you came rushing out of those doors and all but jumped off the ledge.”

Ayla’s cheeks flushed. Of course he was aware of how difficult it was to get out of a trap like that dress. If you took one look at his face, it was clear he probably had women crawling all over him. Suddenly her tongue had turned to lead and she didn’t know what to say. “I- I did not rush out here.”

“If you say so princess. You looked pretty excited to me.”

“Well maybe I was. You try staying locked up in a cage for 9 months and then not want to appreciate the beauty of the divine’s creation.” Her remark came out surprisingly sassy and short. What shocked her the most, was a look of pain flashed across his face, then disappearing as soon as it arrived. He had a story he didn’t want to share. After a moment passed, they both began speaking at the same time. 

“I-”

“It’s not-”

Farkas bowed his head, and gestured towards her. “Please, you go first.”

“I was just going to say I should get to bed. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

He nodded and walked to open the door for her. “See you in the morning M’lady.”

“Goodnight, Farkas.”


	8. Chapter 8

Ayla was back. The musty smell was one she could never forget. The feel of every bump in the wooden chair was ingrained into her mind, and the paralyzing fear she felt every time she looked up at the rocky ceiling, wishing she were far, far away as pain would erupt through her body.

Her arms were strapped down once again and it felt as if she had just woken up from a dream. A dream that was surreal and beautiful and full of light. A dream that made her want to die even more because she knew it was something she could never have.

Gerin peered down at her, and gave her the grin he always did when he was about to inflict a great deal of pain on her. Over the course of a few months, Ulfric visited less and less, while Gerin made more frequent appearances. He began to feel intense pleasure in her suffering, and performed his tests more for his own twisted fantasies rather than what Ulfric wanted him to do. “You lost consciousness there for a few minutes. I was worried you were going to miss this one.” 

He walked over to the fireplace and with his gloved hand, pulled out a sliver of metal only slightly bigger than a needle. The tip of it glowed red hot and pulsated with heat. Torture that came from the fire was by far the worst pain Ayla could describe.

“Test 983, see subject’s reaction to heated needle under fingernail.”

Not this one again. This was the one she really fought against. “No, no!” Her panicked cries fell on deaf ears as she braced herself for the pain that would stay with her for days. Last time he did this, she lost all but one of her fingernails, and she could hardly eat for a week.

Time seemed to slow as he reached for her clenched fist. He was about to slowly inject the needle in, and she could even feel the heat radiating off of the metal, when the door was smashed through.

A creature she swore she had only ever seen in her dream appeared, letting out a guttural roar that left Ayla winded. Gerin screamed and ran to the other side of the room. Could this turn out like her dream? Would this hideous beast be the key to her survival?

As if the creature were swatting a fly, he snapped Gerin’s neck and instantly the man who ruined her life was dead. For a few seconds, there was only heavy panting coming from the beast, his back towards her. Ayla was unsure whether she should call out, or just wait to see what the wolflike being would do.

Finally, he turned towards her, and put his snout right in her face. She didn’t know what to do. In the dream at this point he had turned into a human, and that was not happening. The panting turned into a low growl as rage surged through the beast’s eyes. 

He was not here to save her. He was here to kill her. 

The beast let out another roar and tears dripped down her cheeks. He raised one paw high up in the air, and came slashing down onto her abdomen. Instantly, death kissed her and she was gone.

_ Ayla. _

_ Ayla! _

“Ayla wake up!” Her eyes shot open and Ayla could hear herself screaming and crying. Farkas was shaking her shoulders, and was pretty much on top of her, desperate to wake her up. Her screaming stopped and she looked around through teary eyes at her surroundings. 

She wasn’t in her cell again. She really was in Whiterun. She was out. Immense relief flooded her entire body and she began to cry again, this time out of relief. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Farkas’s body, armor and all.

At first, he stiffened, but after a few seconds, returned the affection. “You were screaming and crying. I thought someone had gotten in here, but you were just asleep.”

“I-I was back there. You-” Ayla stuttered, but decided to keep the nightmare to herself. Gently, Farkas wrapped his arms around her a little bit tighter. “Please don’t leave.”

“It wouldn’t be proper for me to stay here with you. Jarl Balgruuf would have me killed on sight if he saw me like this.” The sentence made Ayla’s heart sink. “But I will be right outside, and we are only a few hours from dawn. If you need me again, I will come as soon as I can.”

He released her and reluctantly she did the same. She didn’t know what it was about

Farkas, but his arms were the place she felt the safest, even though he was a beast. “Have you been awake all night?”

“Yep. One of the perks of being a werewolf is I don’t have to sleep.”

Ayla looked down. Her mind flashed back to the nightmare and she cringed. “Are all of the companions werewolves?”

He stood, and looked down at her. “Not all. Just a select few. You should get back to bed.”

Ayla wasn’t sure she would be able to fall asleep again. “I will do my best.”

“Oh, and M’lady?”

“Yes?”

“I would keep the werewolf topic to yourself. Only a select few in Skyrim even know what we are, and we would like to keep it that way.” Farkas walked back to the doors of the balcony and gave her one last smile. “Can you do that?”

“I give you my word that your secret is safe with me.” Ayla bowed her head and although she wanted to, she couldn’t return the smile. 

He left without another word and she snuggled deeper into the mess of blankets and pillows. Her whole body was still shaking and she had to continually remind herself where she was and who she was with.


	9. Chapter 9

She didn’t go back to sleep, as she suspected, but when Hana walked in an hour after the sun had risen, Ayla had successfully calmed herself and felt okay climbing out of the safety of her bed. 

“Good morning Ayla!” Hana’s voice was chirpy and cheerful as she began stoking the fire. “My, it is quite chilly this morning. The first frost has finally arrived. Oh, dear.”

Her maid’s face fell when she saw Ayla’s hair. It had grown down just past her rear. “It was a rough night.”

She smiled kindly and dismissed the gloomy mood that had entered the room. “I will go into the market today and purchase some proper shears, so we can give your hair a proper cut.”

Ayla smiled. Hana was so good for her. She needed the positive energy that Hana radiated. “Could I come with you?”

“Your highness, you needn’t ask. I will dress you now, and then you can eat and we will head off. For now, is it alright if we just braid your hair?” She bowed and seemed to be glowing with the thought of Ayla accompanying her.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Ayla took off the nightgown and after laborious effort, was cinched into a simple, forest green gown. This one had a higher neckline, which she was grateful for. She walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out the plainest cloak she could find and draped it around her shoulders. “I would like to stay inconspicuous for our outing today. Last time I was out there, people were gawking all the way up to the doors of Dragonsreach.”

Hana giggled. “You did start a garden in the middle of the road and healed a tree that had been dead for years. I think if you avoid doing that again, you will be alright.”

Ayla nodded. She was going to remember how to control her powers again. They had run rampant for the last nine months, and she was determined to take the reigns over her own mind. Hana quickly brushed through Ayla’s long hair and tied it back in a French braid. She wasn’t sure where the name of that type of braid came from, but it was beautiful in its simplicity.

After eating a light meal and slipping on some brown boots that Hana swore would keep her feet warm, they were off. They had almost made it to the main doors when Irileth, the housecarl stopped them. She always seemed to be wearing a frown and hated life.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Hana bowed deeply, fear in each word. “We- we- I had s-some errands to run and Her High- Highness wished to accompany me.”

Irileth’s frown deepened. “You really think the heiress of Skyrim would want to accompany you, an insignificant underling to the market? What makes you think you had the right to use the front door when the servants have a perfectly useful door?”

Ayla scoffed, irritated by the housecarl’s rude interruption. “Maybe before you make assumptions Irileth, you should ask me yourself. I do not appreciate the tone you have used for my personal assistant and would suggest that if you want to keep your standing with the Jarl, you will take care to treat the staff with a little more respect.”

Hana’s jaw dropped as well and Irileth to her knee. “My greatest apologies, your highness. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some errands to attend to.” Ayla turned to leave, but Irileth stopped her again.

“M’lady, as housecarl, it is my sworn duty to make sure you are safe at all times. I will require that a guard accompany you.” She pointed to one of the helmeted guards that stood still as a stone beside the doors. Ayla grimaced.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Ayla grimaced.

“If you do not take one of the guards, I will alert a member of the companion’s to meet you at the shrine of Talos. I am sorry your grace, it is an order from the Jarl.” There was a certain fear in Irileth’s eyes as she spoke.

Ayla contemplated. From her small experience with the companions, they were marginally less stuffy than the Whiterun guards who seemed to come by a dime a dozen, and she finally agreed. “I suppose I will allow that. Miss Hana, let us go.”

Hana, her eyes wide nodded quickly and they were off. Her maid was right about the chill in the air. Ayla pulled her braid in front of her and slipped the hood of her cloak onto her head. Irileth was quick on her word, and Ayla spotted Vilkas at the bottom of the steps. He was not wearing armor, but rather a deep brown tunic, with worn boots and a fur vest. Strapped to his back was a steel sword that made the Nord ten times more intimidating. 

His hair was tied back with a few strands falling out around his face, and he was clearly wearing a frown.

“Hey princess.” He greeted her. Something made Ayla think he might know about the incident with Farkas this morning. “Irileth told me you wanted to play peasant this morning.”

Ayla rolled her eyes. If he was going to dish it, he better be able to take it. “Look, if you don’t want to come, I would be completely fine with that. I don’t know why you’ve got your britches in a twist but I would prefer to enjoy my time today.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, a smile tugging at his lips. He bowed sarcastically and gestured towards the market place. “I suppose I can stick around for a little bit, but only because I need to get some things for Jorrvaskr.” 

Ayla huffed and walked briskly towards the market. She couldn’t stay irritated for long because once again the sights around her were absolutely captivating. A single daisy began to sprout from her step, but she swiftly plucked it away and impulsively turned towards Vilkas, offering the flower. “Truce?”

His grey eyes, only slightly darker than Farkas’s widened in surprise. He slowly accepted the flower from her hands and stared at it curiously. “Truce.”

“Hana! You’ll never believe what happened yesterday!” A young woman with fiery red hair, probably the same age as Hana ran up to their small group and grabbed her maid by the hands. “The most beautiful woman came through the town and flowers grew with every step! Her hair was so long she couldn’t carry it herself, and she even healed the Gildergreen!”

Hana’s cheeks flushed cherry red and she looked so embarrassed. “Rita, shut up.”

Rita finally realized that her friend was accompanied by two other people and those green eyes went wide as Skyrim’s two moons when she recognized Ayla. “Oh my Gods. Hana, this is the woman.”

“I know. Why are you such an imbecile? ” Hana’s words were sharp and cold. She gave Ayla a panicked look and seemed as if she wanted to cry. “I am so sorry m’lady.”

“It’s alright. It is wonderful to meet you, Rita. I am Ayla.” She bowed her head and smiled at the girl.

Rita curtsied deeply, and with wonder in her voice asked, “Are you a goddess?”

Vilkas snorted and Ayla couldn’t help but throw her head back in laughter. “By Divines, no. I’m far from that.”

“Rita, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Hana jabbed her side and Rita yelped. Her friend seemed reluctant.

“But-”

“Go.”

“Fine.” She frowned and glanced at Vilkas. Her cheeks turned a rosy color and she gave him a coy smile. “Hi, Vilkas.”

“Hey, Rita.” His response was cold as he was but there was something there. “I think your mother’s calling you.”

The smile disappeared and she turned to leave. “I’ll talk to you tonight, cous. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Then she was gone after Hana pushed her away. “I am so sorry for her behavior. She isn’t ever around anyone other than common folk.”

“It’s alright. I thought it was funny.” She smiled and they continued walking towards the stands. They reached a merchant who was selling all manner of fruits and vegetables, ripe and tantalizing. Vilkas bought a dozen apples and took a bite of one. Turning towards him, Ayla gave him a sly grin. “It seems Vilkas has a bit of an admirer.”

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t assume things you don’t know anything about. Rita would marry the entire guild if she could.”

The comeback made Ayla giggle. It was fun to see Vilkas squirm a little bit. She ought to tease him a little more. “It seems the most eligible bachelors are members, so I’m not surprised by that one bit.”

He choked on the bite he had just taken and coughed uncomfortably. “Th-that’s not- appropriate for a princess to- to…”

“I can say what I want. Last I checked freedom of speech is still enforced in our province.” She cocked one eyebrow up and stared him down triumphantly. Their eyes met and he studied her carefully.

“When they talked about the High King’s daughter coming of age, I can honestly say you are not what I imagined her to be like.”

“What did you expect?” She questioned. It was always interesting to see what outsiders thought of her.

“I was right on the whole frail guess. But I guess I expected you to be pompous and proud and a perfectly well-groomed royal, with jewels weighing down your neck and an ego keeping your head afloat.” He brushed her off as they walked to the next booth. Hana was happily chatting away with some friends and zipped around to and fro, purchasing all the necessary items they needed.

“Ouch. Is that what most people think?” Her ego was definitely bruised.

“Not everyone, but most. You never left Solitude, so what were we supposed to think?”

Ayla lifted her hands in defense. “That was not by choice. My father thought it would be safest for me to be close to him.” She paused. “I guess we saw where that got me.”

The two didn’t say anything for a few moments. Finally, Vilkas broke the silence. “It was a sad day when King Torygg was killed. He was a good man. I am sorry for your loss. I know how it feels to lose a parent. Farkas is all I have left.”

“I just want to see Ulfric executed for my father’s murder. It wasn’t a fair challenge.” There was venom behind every word. She had never hated anyone more than she did that man. However, that was not what she wanted to think about right now. “I’m glad I exceeded your expectations, at least I hope I did. I don’t have layers of jewelry on.”

“You are far from that, princess.” He turned away from her but she could see another small smile appear. “You have much more fire in your bones than I pictured.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Don’t get used to it. Unlike Farkas, I’m not a soppy whelp.”

The thought of Vilkas’s twin and the kindness he showed her last night made Ayla’s heart leap. She ought to talk to him today.


End file.
